


35mm

by MessOfCurls



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Climbing Class, Cock Piercing, Dick Pics, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Piercings, Public Sex, Quiet Sex, Sex Toys, Sexting, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-01-27 06:26:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12575712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessOfCurls/pseuds/MessOfCurls
Summary: A collection of Until Dawn drabbles, updated as and when. NSFW drabbles tagged in chapter titles.





	1. Metal (Josh - NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [**this NSFW art**](https://desperado-raspado.tumblr.com/post/164399596835/hey-hey-hey-consider-this) by [@desperado-raspado](https://desperado-raspado.tumblr.com/)

_“You did what?”_ **  
**

He’d met Chris’ incredulous smile with a fond smirk, mouth broadening to a grin when blue eyes peered back at him through clear lenses, blinking amused disbelief. Perhaps he should have warned Chris, maybe run it by him, but the idea to get it done had been lurking at the back of Josh’s mind ever since he’d first thought of it.

This wasn’t about Chris. Not really. 

_“And you’re out of action for how long?”_

_“A while.”_

Chris had seemed disheartened, but Josh hadn’t missed the hint of something else behind the blond’s gaze as he chewed his lip; initial surprise and disappointment slowly giving way to playful curiosity.

_“So, uh… can I see?”_

Two long, restive weeks of abstinence and diligent aftercare had passed since then. ‘Better safe than sorry’ had always been the plan, but it hadn’t been easy. And sure, maybe he was being overly cautious, sticking to his guns despite Chris’ eager assurances that ‘hey, you’re probably good to go now, bro’, but Josh knew it would be worth the wait. 

He peered down at himself through heavy-lidded gaze, hand ghosting over hard flesh and smooth metal curves. Man, it looked good though, even better than he’d thought it would; four neatly-spaced silver beads that he couldn’t stop admiring. It felt good, too; cool metal and warm skin beneath his palm and fingers.

His hand trailed upward, following the stiff curve of his shaft with firm fingertips. Until now, it had been a case of featherlight touches and avoidance, but you could only err on the side of caution for so long, right?

He rolled one of the metal balls between his thumb and forefinger; a gentle twist followed by a soft tug that tightened the restless knot in his stomach. Sucking in a breath, he did it again, fresh colour staining his cheeks. 

_Right._

No, this wasn’t about Chris. It never had been. This… this was for him.


	2. Five Star (Chris - NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [**this NSFW art**](https://desperado-raspado.tumblr.com/post/166295593920/kinktober-day-11-masturbation-used-a-previous) by [@desperado-raspado](https://desperado-raspado.tumblr.com/)

On paper, it was simple - make a choice, buy it, then wait - but somehow, it hadn’t turned out that way. Hell, he’d spent less time speccing his computer.

The possibilities seemed endless. Daunting, even. There were so many models to choose from, each touting cutting-edge technology and a myriad of features he hadn’t even considered; so many accessories and add-ons that he wasn’t sure where to begin. Cases, mounts and adapters. Lubricants, sleeves and hands-free options. The more he looked, the more he found; the quest for enhanced self-gratification fraught with hesitation.

After a few too many hours spent methodically comparing specs, reading customer reviews, and a _lot_ of deliberation, Chris finally reached a decision.

It was the basis of any great relationship: free shipping, discreet billing, and a lifetime warranty. Nothing _too_ flashy, he didn’t want to break the bank, but it ticked the boxes; boasting a realistic feel (well, duh), easy to clean design (gotta be practical, you know?) and a thirty day money-back guarantee (“not that you’ll need it!” says Brad, Wyoming).

He placed the order, fairly confident in his choice. But, for all the five-star reviews, Chris still couldn’t quite shake his scepticism. The sales pitch talked a good game, he couldn’t deny that, but it seemed like a lot of big claims and promises for one neatly packaged, unassuming box to deliver.

_‘Get an eyeful of the inside action with our coolest self-pleasure device and only transparent model. With heightened visual stimulation, this male sex toy experience will blow you away.’_

There was only one way to know for sure.

It hadn’t looked like much, lying there amid the packing paper and customer care literature. In action, it was a different story.

“Fuh–”

Chris stilled his hand, grip tightening on the hard outer case, the other pressed against the couch beside him as he held the fleshlight steady. He wasn’t in deep, an inch or two at most, visible through the clear plastic sheen.

_H-holy shit…_

So far, so good.

He slowly pulled out, dick twitching as it fell free, glistening wetly against his palm, excess lube pooling on his stomach. In hindsight, maybe he’d used too much. A+ for effort, though perhaps lacking in execution. But there wasn’t anything he planned on doing about it, not now.

He took a moment’s reprieve, working his shaft through slippery fingers before guiding himself back in, bare ass shifting against the couch as he pushed up, treating himself to a few, slow, shallow thrusts. An uncertain dip of his hand followed; an unsteady breath accompanying the soft, wet sucking sound it caused.

“Uhh…”

His free hand joined the other, fingers curling around the case. He lowered it again, farther this time, lips parting as he watched its slow, downward slide; slick skin swallowed up inch by inch till it was snug around him.

_“Uhh…”_

The involuntary sound caught in his throat, lost amid the exaggerated moans coming from his laptop. He felt warm all over, blush spreading across the bridge of his nose to the tips of his ears, cheeks flushing an impressive shade of pink. Using a little imagination, he could almost picture it, could almost feel legs straddling his own.

He pulled back a little, tight weight sinking over him as he slowly brought it down again, then again, hands moving more surely than before.

“F-fuck…”

With a groan, Chris sank back against the futon, eyes closing as he found his rhythm.

So far, _so good._


	3. No Strings (Chris/Mike - NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [**this NSFW art**](https://desperado-raspado.tumblr.com/post/166085715125/kinktober-day-5-begging-anon-requested) by [@desperado-raspado](https://desperado-raspado.tumblr.com/)

Chris swallowed, grateful for the privacy the darkened shop doorway provided, his presence ignored by the other pedestrians passing him by, few and far between. He leaned back against the security shutters and, for a second, his mind went blank; a momentary short-circuit that left him staring at the phone in a daze while he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

His first thought was that he must have read it wrong. That had to be it. But when he scanned the lines of text again, there it was, clear as day. His name. _Right there._

      _...Wait._

It _was_ his name, but it wasn’t like he was the only Chris. There were others. Chris Olson, that was one. Maybe Christina Rhodes from Chem; she’d hooked up with Mike before, right? Thinking about it, Mike probably knew other Chrises besides the two he’d easily plucked from the air. Hell, it wasn’t an uncommon name.

It was a mistake, that was all. It had to be.

A new message pushed the photo farther up the screen. With an unconscious frown, Chris glanced around then peered down at the phone, gaze settling on the fresh text.

      **Hartley?**

Well, there was no arguing with it now; the list of suspects narrowed down with one unambiguous little word until only he remained. Mike had meant to send it. To _him_. Reading it back, Chris could almost hear Mike’s voice saying it.

It was for him. Definitely for him…

...But it _had_ to be a joke, right? Sure, it wasn’t like anything Mike had ever pulled before, and maybe Chris didn't quite _get_ the joke, but…

Chris stood there in silence, pulled up on the sidewalk by the dim shopfront, face lit by the phone clutched in his hand. His mind cycled through the possibilities, finally settling on one that only deepened the blush staining his cheeks. 

      _...But what if it isn’t?_

A moment’s indecision had him frowning at the phone before he managed to collect himself. Slowly, he began to type.

      **You’re messing with me, right?**

He deleted the message and tried again.

      **Ha I don’t**

Deleted.

      **You don't have someone better to**

Deleted.

      **Well, since you asked so**

Chris sighed as he deleted his latest attempt, and was left staring at a blank message once more. Why was this so hard? All he had to do was string together a few words, but somehow that simple task seemed impossible. At least in an actual conversation he could gauge a reaction - could come up with something on the fly and maybe it would land - but actually having to choose his words?

      _You’re so fucking bad at this._

If he could just talk to Mike, just get face to face with him, he could--

Chris blinked, mind stuttering at the thought.

Face to face. With Mike. Like _that_.

He ran a hand through his hair and took a breath while he gathered his thoughts.

      _Okay, think this through. Easy does it._

Finally, he typed another reply, settling on a message he regretted the moment he sent it.

      **What’s in it for me, huh?**

Okay, so it wasn't great. It was a stupid question - he could clearly see _exactly_ what was in it for him - but hopefully it was casual enough that he could backtrack if he needed to, playful enough to brush off.

Chris waited, held in place by indecision and nervous anticipation. When no reply came, he cringed and pushed away from the shutters. He was about to walk on, ready to slip the phone back in his pocket, when he felt it vibrate against his fingers.

Another message. No words, no pictures. A video.

With his back to the wall, Chris shielded the screen from prying eyes. He turned down the volume and clicked it, eyes widening as it played.

The clip was a few seconds long, taken from a different angle, but it was enough to hold Chris' attention. He watched Mike's leg shift against the sheets, fingers curling around his dick, working himself up with a few slow strokes through his hand before letting its hard length fall back against the taut muscles of his stomach.

Chris didn't notice his own lips parting or the way his eyebrows seemed hell-bent on disappearing into his hairline, but there was no ignoring the heat radiating from his face, cheeks bitten pink by more than the cold night air. More than that, he felt it deep in the pit of his stomach; a pang of pure want marked by a huff of breath that clouded the air around him.

He hit play and watched the clip again before lowering his phone, holding it to his chest while he searched his brain for a reply - something witty, clever, funny - but came up empty. It didn’t matter though. His quest for a comeback was cut short by another message. Words, this time.

      **Whatever you want. However you want.  
     No strings.**

A pause, just a few seconds, but long enough for the text-in-progress animation to keep him hanging, leaving him flustered by three little dots.

      **...don’t make me beg.**

The gray dots disappeared, leaving Chris to gawk at the screen once more and slowly digest Mike’s words.

How often did an offer like this come along?

He reread the messages then opened the photo, staring at it for a long, long moment.

It didn't. Ever.

Chris scrolled down, thumbs already tapping out a reply before he could change his mind.

      **Omw**


	4. Game Over (Chris/Josh - NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [**this NSFW art**](https://desperado-raspado.tumblr.com/post/169002999165/josh-blowing-chris-off-while-he-plays-video-games) by [@desperado-raspado](https://desperado-raspado.tumblr.com/)

     “Where the fuck are you going?!”

     “Sorry, I…”

Chris muttered a curse under his breath, unheard by the disembodied voices talking to him through the headset. He knew the map back to front, had played it dozens of times, yet somehow, he was going the wrong way.

Perhaps his erratic actions were perplexing to his teammates, but in truth, it was unsurprising. He was better than this, he knew it and so did they, but it was difficult to bring his A-game when he was so utterly distracted by the mess of brown hair bobbing steadily over his lap, game controller held so tightly in his hands it felt like it might snap in two.

     “What the fuck, man? Come _on_.”

     Chris glanced down at Josh and sucked in a breath. A moment’s lapse in concentration and he was waiting to respawn. “S-sorry, man. I-it’s--”

     “Dude, hang back and cover me.”

     “Y-yeah, I… I’m on it.”

Chris cursed again and forced his stuttering mouth shut, eyes screwing up as he bit back a groan. Focussing on anything right now, let alone HP, was difficult. How the hell was he supposed to keep his party up while Josh was going down on him?

The problem, as Chris saw it, was that Josh didn’t take games seriously; it was one of the few areas where their interests diverged. Sure, Josh liked the old-school light-gun arcade games, House of the Dead and so on, and some survival horror stuff too - backseat gaming while Chris took the wheel - but Josh didn’t have the same enthusiasm for games that Chris did. Josh didn’t care about levels or XP. No, he didn’t care about collectables or ranking up, and he sure as hell didn't care about how fucked Chris' K/D ratio was going to be after this, that was for damn sure. What Josh _did_ care about - Chris was learning the hard way - was being ignored; a feat that was proving impossible for Chris to do right now. But with the warmth of Josh’s mouth around him, slowly inching down till Chris was pressing against the back of Josh’s throat with each insistent dip of his head, Chris couldn't bring himself to be completely mad about it.

In fairness, Josh wasn't wholly to blame for Chris' current predicament. He was restless, but perhaps Chris had been a little too engrossed in the game. ‘Just one more match’ had turned into two more, and, with his patience running thin, Josh had decided to do something about it.

At first, Josh had been a mild distraction, teasing Chris with wandering hands, messing with his clothes while he played, tugging at his shirt; a joke Chris tried to shrug off. But no matter how many times he half-heartedly batted Josh away, silently mouthing for Josh to ‘quit it’, Josh was undeterred. If anything, it only seemed to encourage him.

So yes, maybe Josh was partly to blame for the shitshow of a match Chris was playing, but it wasn’t like Josh had pinned him down. Josh was the one who had unzipped Chris’ jeans, but Chris hadn’t exactly stopped Josh dipping his hand inside his shorts, his dick getting predictably hard under Josh’s attention, betraying his show of indifference. He hadn't even tried to fight it when Josh leaned over to jerk him off, watching Chris' face with quiet, amused interest as the blond struggled to play until even that wasn’t enough of a distraction for Josh’s liking. Teasing flicks of tongue soon followed, intended to provoke a reaction that quickly became so much more. And now, here they were.

Chris tried to concentrate, brow pulled into a tight, desperate frown, lip bitten between his teeth as he valiantly struggled on. It had started as a joke, just Josh pushing his buttons, but Josh was into it now. He could tell by the hand pawing possessively at his side and the muffled moans and hums he felt but couldn’t hear, more often as time went on. Josh wasn’t messing around anymore.

Chris managed to follow his teammates, relying on muscle memory to keep himself moving, but soon found himself distracted again, eyes drawn to the brunette hunched over his lap, to Josh’s rucked-up shirt and the exposed waistband of his shorts, a tempting line against his skin. His grip tightened on the controller, busy fingers itching to reach out and slip beneath Josh's jeans, thoughts of assisting his team outweighed by the idea of running his hand over--

     "Dude! Can I get a fucking heal over here or what? Fuck, man."

It was surreal, being blown and berated at the same time; a confusing mix of anxiety and feeling so turned on that would have been laughable if Chris wasn’t too wound up to know how to process it.

     “Sure, I… Y-yeah, I can… s-sure,” Chris stuttered, fingers moving on automatic in a vague show of making himself useful. His gaze obediently snapped up to the screen, but he didn’t see it, not clearly, his mind still elsewhere.

God damn, but he wanted to fuck him now. _Badly_. And Josh would let him, Chris knew it. Hell, Josh would probably see it as some kind of victory; working Chris up so much that all he could think about was bending Josh over the arm of the couch, tugging down his jeans, spreading those tight cheeks apart and--

     “Hey! You there or what?”

He was dead. Again.

     “ye _Ahh_ \-- I’m s-still here, guys,” Chris managed, voice hitching in his chest. “Havin’ an _ah_ -off day. S-sorry.” He opened his eyes and swallowed, voice reduced to little more than a whisper. “ _Fuck_ …”

In the moment of respite, while Chris waited to respawn, his freed-up hand carded through brown hair, pressing on Josh’s head and firmly urging him down again and again. With the controller gripped tightly in one hand, knuckles white with tension, he closed his eyes, hand trailing to Josh's shoulder when Josh got the message, speeding up of his own accord.

     “You there?”

     “ _Nnh_ \-- I’m...”

Chris felt Josh sink lower and let out another mumbled curse, more sound than word, before clamping his mouth shut again. He was back in the game, but there was no fighting it. If Josh didn’t stop now, he was going to come. More importantly, if anyone was recording or streaming - he knew they sometimes did - and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut…

He tossed the controller onto the couch beside him and yanked his headset off, letting it hang limply around his neck. With the mic muffled in his clenched fist and a handful of Josh’s shirt balled up in the other, he sank back against the couch.

     “Ah… _mmh_ … ah yeah...”

Josh’s hands tightened on his waist and thigh. Without the headphones, Chris could hear the room again; the rustling of Josh’s clothes and the slight creaking of the couch mingling with the greedy, wet sounds of Josh's mouth.

     “Ah… _aah_ \-- mmf- _fuck_!”

It crept up on Chris quickly, almost taking him by surprise, but Josh was ready. He held Chris in place, swallowing around him as he came, only relenting when he'd reduced the blond to a mess of flustered protests.

     Finally, Josh pulled away and sat up, clearing his throat. He licked his lips with deliberate slowness then dragged his hand over his mouth. “Did you win?”

For a moment, Chris was at a loss for what to say. He looked at the screen in a daze.

The match was over. He… had not won.

The screen changed before Chris could dwell on his dire stats, and suddenly he was back in the lobby waiting for more players to join. He heard distant, disgruntled voices coming from his headset but didn’t put it back on. Judging by how he’d played, Chris could venture an educated guess as to what his teammates might be saying.

     Chris sheepishly raised the mic to his mouth, sparing himself the abuse. “Sorry, guys. I didn’t…”

His gaze returned to Josh, who was now reclining on the couch and looking way too pleased with himself, watching Chris with a cat-like curiosity.

     “…I’m, uh…”

Josh ran his hand over his crotch, working loose the button of his pants. He quirked his eyebrows, and his smirk became a fully fledged grin.

     “...I gotta sit this one out,” Chris said finally, watching Josh’s eyes light up in answer. “Something’s come up.”


	5. Cheerleader (Matt/Emily)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A [prompt](https://messofcurls-creative.tumblr.com/post/172488679671/98-matt) from a Tumblr follower.

“Take a deep breath.”

“Em--”

“Do it.”

Matt stifled a sigh, forcing himself to meet Emily’s eye as she leaned back against the car door, watching him expectantly. Though he’d downplayed it on the drive over, he was nervous. _Real_ nervous.

He didn’t get worried before games anymore. He still got excited, psyching himself up, but that was different. With rumours of a talent scout circulating, he’d regressed to that anxious time before tryouts years ago, before his place on the team every year was a given. This was it, his chance to get noticed. If he messed this up--

“ _Matthew_.”

Emily stared at him, scowling softly, but there was no malice in it. She only ever called him by his full name when she wanted to get his attention or really get her point across, the same way his mom did when she got mad. Brushing her off wasn’t an option.

“Okay…”

Matt closed his eyes, took a long, deep breath, and felt the tension he’d been carrying ease as he exhaled, just a little. When he opened them, Emily was looking back at him; her expression changed from quietly stern to a small, warm smile. Her arms, once crossed, were now out by her sides, hands resting on her hips.

“Who’s got this?” she asked tilting her head.

For the first time in hours, Matt smiled. He took Emily by the hands, squeezing softly.

“ _I_ do,” he said, humouring her.

“That’s right,” Emily said, sounding pleased with herself. She squeezed back. “This is like any other game. Just go out there and do the running and throwing thing.”

Matt managed to laugh. His nerves were still there, turning over in his stomach, but with Emily smiling at him he didn't feel them quite so much.

Steeling himself, Matt nodded and released Emily’s hands, fumbling with the strap of his bag as he turned to go.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Matt stopped and glanced down at himself. His bag was slung over his shoulder, and he was pretty sure he’d remembered to pack everything he needed from home. The rest of his stuff was waiting for him in his locker.

Emily watched him, quietly amused. Without a word, she pointed to her mouth.

Matt‘s eyes lit up, and he smiled again, remembering himself. “Right…”

He leaned in close and placed his hands on Emily’s waist, planting a kiss on her lips before pulling back.

“See you after?” he asked hopefully.

Emily nodded, smiling softly. “Definitely.”


	6. Tan Lines (Chris/Josh - NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [**this NSFW art**](https://desperado-raspado.tumblr.com/post/174203879270/time-for-summer-doodles) by [@desperado-raspado](https://desperado-raspado.tumblr.com/)

Chris laughed as the lounger creaked beneath him, a flustered sound he instantly regretted. His grip tightened on his swim shorts as the backs of Josh’s fingers smoothed along his stomach, brushing against his own.

“J,” he managed weakly, “dude, come on.”

Josh sat back on his heels, shins pressed to the sand, and peered up at the blond from the end of the lounger. Locked in a gentle tug-of-war, the lacklustre protest had little effect, and his fingers remained hooked beneath the waistband of Chris’ shorts, firm and possessive.

“Look around, man. Do you see anyone else?” Josh asked, gesturing to the hazy sky with his free hand. His lips quirked into a self-assured smile. “It’s just you, me and the sea.”

Chris did look around, hurriedly scanning the empty stretch of sand. Devoid of swimmers, the sea opened out to his right, the beach house obscured by the jutting cliff face to his left. They’d been there since morning, sunbathing and drinking with the others, but it was quiet now, the portable speaker taken back to the house, their friends’ footsteps long since washed away. Without music, only the sound of breaking waves and beach bur rustling in the breeze remained.

He’d considered joining the twins when they headed back sometime after three, the others following soon after, but Josh had talked him into staying to soak up the late afternoon sun and, in Josh’s words, ‘make the most of it’. It was still warm out after all, and the beach was entirely at their disposal - just one of the perks of dating a Washington - so what was the rush?

Fast forward thirty minutes and Chris now knew _exactly_ what Josh’s definition of ‘making the most of it’ entailed - messing around at the beach followed by making out at the beach that swiftly led to the compromising position he now found himself in.

Yes, it was quieter now, no music, no chatter. With nobody in sight for miles, Chris had to concede that Josh wasn’t exactly wrong.

Josh leaned forward, making the most of Chris’ indecision, free hand settling on Chris’ thigh. He glanced up, cheek brushing against Chris’ crotch, then turned his head, slowly mouthing against the outline of Chris’ cock through the thin material.

“Josh…”

Chris looked on, still clutching his waistband even as his body betrayed him, oblivious to his apprehension. Man, he wanted to, he _really_ wanted to, but why did Josh have to pick now and more importantly here of all places?

Josh lifted his head.

“You can keep lookout if you want?” he suggested, pressing his advantage. His voice was softer now, teasing words made thick and sultry by the persuasive look in his eyes.

Chris let out another breath of disbelieving laughter. Josh was many things - smart, funny, sometimes a total ass - but those qualities paled in comparison to a persistence bordering on stubbornness, an attribute that drove all Josh’s endeavours, and this was no exception. He found it hard saying no to Josh at the best of times, let alone now, and never really stood a chance when Josh had his mind set on something; a sad fact they both knew all too well. Sure, Josh would drop it eventually if he put up any real resistance, but with the makings of a hard-on, and Josh peering up at him - shirtless, eyes lit with mischief, skin bronzed by the sun - Chris wasn’t entirely sure he wanted Josh to drop it.

Josh glanced over his shoulder then met Chris’ eye.

“All clear?” he murmured, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Chris looked along the beach.

Still empty. Still alone.

Chris’ hand slowly retreated to the arm of the lounger. Without prompting, he lifted his hips and saw Josh’s slight smile grow to a triumphant grin, eyes flashing as he eased down the material and freed Chris from his shorts.

Josh shuffled forward in the sand, settling more firmly between Chris’ legs, and ran his fingers over newly-exposed skin. Barely pausing, as though Chris might change his mind, he took Chris in hand, his smug smile returning when Chris stiffened against his palm, a few lazy strokes all he needed to get him all the way up. He glanced at Chris’ dick, looking unbearably pleased with himself, then bent down once more, eyes falling shut as his mouth trailed across Chris’ stomach from pale to sun-kissed skin, licking away sweat and lingering sea salt with his flattened tongue.

“Hah–”

Chris exhaled, the sound lost in the breeze. His hand went to his head and brushed his hair back from his face while he watched, eyes growing heavy as Josh pulled back then lowered his head again, lips parting around him.

No, when Josh set his mind on something, Chris never really stood a chance.


	7. Bangs (Jess/Emily)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A [prompt](https://messofcurls-creative.tumblr.com/post/181050837876/send-a-number-and-a-pair-for-a-drabble) from a Tumblr follower.

It had taken a lot of prodding to convince Jess to come over. That in itself was weird, they had no reason not to meet up. Standing on the doorstep wearing a beanie in near on ninety degrees, refusing to take it off until they were safely in Emily's room was even stranger. But now, with the beanie reluctantly cast aside, Emily knew why.

“You went for… bangs?”

Jess shot Emily a warning look. “Stop looking at me like that, it’s your fault anyway.”

“How is this my fault?” Emily asked, flashing an incredulous smile.

“You said it would look good!”

Emily searched her memory. She couldn’t remember suggesting the sight that greeted her now, the blunt, rounded bangs in question an awkward length, just a little too long or too short, she couldn’t decide which. Perhaps she’d made an offhand comment, or maybe they’d seen something online in passing she’d said she liked, but if she had, Emily honestly couldn’t recall.

Either way, there was no chance Jess was pinning this on her.

Emily watched Jess’ pout deepen and felt her own lips twitch with amusement. She bit it back and covered her mouth, correcting her expression. “Maybe it just needs time to settle?” she ventured, not quite believing her own words. 

Jess considered it for all of two seconds before her face dropped again, unconvinced. “Is it as bad as I think it is?”

Aware she was walking delicate ground, Emily considered her words carefully. But her hesitation and expression, a momentary slip, gave her away. Before she could answer, Jess sank down on the bed looking deflated and forlorn.

She gave Jess a sympathetic smile and received a soft scowl in return.

Now what?

She could say it looked fine, but that would probably make things worse, Jess would only call her out for lying. But Emily understood something very well. Her job was to be supportive no matter what dumbass decision Jess made, within reason of course. Sometimes you had to be a cheerleader, and sometimes you had to be a punching bag. Today was a little of both.

“It could be kind of cute? With a little…”

Emily trailed off mid-thought, considering the problem. She never wore much in her hair, sticking with an 'if it ain't broke, don’t fix it' philosophy when it came to her own sleek, black hair. But she had a few items that might help, a few slides and bobby pins for the rarely seen formal updo.

Emily headed to her small vanity and pondered the neatly arranged surface. She settled on a few bobby pins and a flat brush, briefly considering a hand mirror before thinking better of it. It was probably best to avoid mirrors for now.

“I look like an asshole,” Jess lamented, shifting on the bed.

Emily was glad that she was facing away. She stifled a snort, composed herself then returned to Jess, sitting down on the bed beside her, tools in hand.

“It’s not going to help.”

Ignoring Jess’ protest, Emily placed the pins on the bed then raised the brush. She was gently batted away.

“Em, it’s not--” 

Emily gave Jess an expectant look.

Sighing, Jess relented. “Fine.”

Brush in hand, Emily regarded Jess at length. Finally, she set to work, brushing back unruly bangs that seemed hellbent on disobeying her.

“Chin up.”

“Em--”

“Jess,” Emily parroted back in the same near whine.

With another huffy exhale, Jess complied and patiently watched Emily work, brushing and twisting her bangs and clipping them back, sliding the bobby pins into place one by one. She seemed a little calmer now, not quite so distraught, though the muted worry never quite left her face.

Finished, Emily sat back and mused over the quick-fix pompadour. Slowly, she brushed a stray strand back from Jess’ cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

“How does it look?” Jess asked, her voice a mixture of anxious and hopeful.

Emily’s thoughtful frown faded. She smiled. It didn’t look half-bad. 

“...Em?”

“Better,” Emily said, more convincingly than before. “Go. Take a look.”

With reluctant obedience, Jess got to her feet and headed to the mirror, and Emily watched her frown at her reflection, tilting her head this way and that. Satisfied, Jess glanced back over her shoulder.

The pout was gone, replaced with the smallest of smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [@messofcurls-creative](https://messofcurls-creative.tumblr.com/)


End file.
